Human All The Way Through
by Lomonaaeren
Summary: SSHP. Twoshot. By this point, bonding with Snape to save the world is far from the worst thing Harry's been asked to do. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Human All the Way Through  
 **Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.  
 **Pairing:** Snape/Harry  
 **Content Notes:** Forced bonding, angst, violence, AU  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Wordcount:** This part 4700  
 **Summary:** By this point, bonding with Snape to save the world is far from the worst thing Harry's been asked to do.  
 **Author's Notes:** This is another of my Advent fics, for what was originally an Advent prompt last year by pcornelius: _A thought which surfaces from time to time: Harry/Draco or Harry/Severus, presumably. Someone (not necessarily Dumbledore) figures out how to get rid of the Horcrux in Harry. It requires a ritual bonding with someone who carries the Dark Mark - which will itself also be eliminated in the process. Nobody is entirely pleased. On the other hand, even Dumbledore isn't crazy enough to prefer the alternative..._ The second part will be posted tomorrow.

 **Human All the Way Through**

Severus grimaced at the ancient grimoire in front of him. There were times he wished he had never become a Death Eater because of the things he had been forced to _learn_ , rather than do. Access to books like this, bound in human skin and reeking of old smells that not even Preservation Charms could entirely banish, were one of those consequences.

He read the page again. Then he cast another detection charm. He'd already used a host of those, mostly to check for invisible ink and other methods of concealing secrets. Many of the old writers used those, to conceal some vital step in a ritual or ingredient in a potion, their position being that someone stupid enough to view anything so Dark as a panacea deserved to suffer.

But no ink suddenly brightened and wavered into being on the page, either, just as no torn corner had suddenly reappeared to connect with the paper, and no code had been revealed, and no subtle substitution of words twisted upwards from the carefully-prepared palimpsest that had been hidden underneath the surface. The ritual was described exactly as it was.

Severus sighed. This was the knowledge that could help defeat the Dark Lord.

But because of what _else_ it was, he still read it four times and committed it to memory before he took the book to Dumbledore.

* * *

Harry sat with his back straight. He had had two years of wartime training now, since his sixth year when he and Dumbledore had managed to destroy two more Horcruxes, the locket and the diadem, before Voldemort had wised up and gathered the cup and Nagini close to him. In that time, he'd heard enough scoldings from the Order members about incorrect posture to always pull himself upright automatically now.

"How much time does the ritual require to prepare?" he asked.

Snape gave him a surprised glance. Even though Dumbledore had called Harry here to discuss the ritual, he seemed to think Harry should sit silent and not ask intelligent questions. Harry gave him a thin smile and faced Dumbledore, to make it clear where he expected the answer to come from.

But it was Snape who answered. "It takes a full month, from the dark of the moon to the dark of the moon. We need to bleed on the ritual site each day in between, and speak our intentions aloud at sunset and midnight to seal the invocation."

Harry nodded. He had thought it would probably be something like that, especially since he'd become familiar with the outline of rituals and curses in detail from sixteen to nineteen. "And how common and required is the ritual sexual component?"

Snape choked and flung an accusing glare at Dumbledore. It was funny how much better Harry had got at reading him since the serious start of the war. Or maybe he just hid his emotions worse now, knowing what they all knew about the way they could die. "You told him about that, Albus?"

"He's going to have to participate," Dumbledore said, at the same time Harry said, "It's a common part of moon rituals like this, of _course_ I knew about that."

Harry smiled at Dumbledore and turned back to Snape, eyeing him critically. There was little about him that would make him a suitable candidate for a bonding, he thought. One of Harry's friends would have been better if they were going to rely on love and trust to defeat Voldemort, the way Dumbledore always said they would. On the other hand, Darker rituals would probably require someone like Snape.

"It's because you carry the Dark Mark, right?"

Snape looked as if he was about to faint, because no one had told him Harry was that smart. Harry gave him a smug little smile and continued, "So the bonding is through sex entirely. I don't think it's any more welcome to you than to me."

"That would be correct," said Snape in a strangled tone.

Harry turned back to Dumbledore. It was still hard to tell from Snape how bad this was. "It would require a permanent bond, sir? And what sort of Dark Arts besides the bloodletting and the invocations?" Harry knew, now, after years of experiencing curses and casting them, that words could be just as much a horrible thing as sex or pain.

Dumbledore looked at him with a tender pride. "Yes, Harry, it would be permanent. But in this case, it involves no torture or…unusual sexual practices. It would require Professor Snape to have sex with you in the way that two men usually do."

Harry just nodded, and noticed, again, the way that Snape looked on the verge of spluttering. He really didn't know what Harry had spent his time doing, did he? At least not the reading up on ritual practices. "Who would be in charge of the bond, sir?"

"What do you mean, Harry? And do remember that I invited you to call me Albus."

He had it, but Harry was incapable of doing that. He thought of the Headmaster as a mentor and a war-leader, but not a friend, not really. "Yes. I mean, who would be on top? The readings I've done said that the person who's on top is usually in charge of the bond."

"What have you been allowing the boy to _read_ , Albus?"

Harry shot Snape a deeply amused glance with one eye only. Mostly, he concentrated on Dumbledore, and saw the way that he hid a smile behind his hand. "Only what he needed for the war, Severus."

Snape subsided into muttering, and Dumbledore faced Harry, his face grave again. "Because of the special circumstances surrounding you and this ritual, Harry, then it would have to be Professor Snape."

Harry took in a slow breath of air through his mouth. Well, he had already suspected that, although he'd learned to ask questions anyway. "All right, sir. As long as he doesn't try to abuse me, I don't mind."

"What _special circumstances_? Albus, I told you, the only reason the ritual would have to proceed in a certain way is if—"

"There seemed to be many circumstances that might challenge the successful execution of the ritual, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted, his voice mild. "However, the one I'm referring to at the moment is the fact that Mr. Potter is a virgin."

 _At least he was the one to say it, so I didn't have to._

Snape now looked like a pale tomato, as if his face couldn't decide whether to be red or white. He turned to Harry and blurted, " _How_?"

"Well, you see," Harry said, and leaned towards Snape, and dropped his voice low, so that Snape leaned in thinking he was about to hear a secret, "I was born that way, and then I didn't have sex."

"Harry, don't tease Professor Snape, please."

Snape gave Harry a deeply offended look. Harry only grinned. It had been worth it, especially when he knew that Snape would do anything he had to to stop Voldemort. "I meant—why have you not already harnessed your virginity in some ritual that might help us defeat _him_ , Potter?"

Harry snorted. "What ritual has there been before this? Besides—"

He stopped. Dumbledore gave him a glance full of compassion. Harry nodded to him, and said nothing, even though Snape was glaring curiously back and forth between them. He knew the reason.

Harry had wanted it to mean something. He had sometimes hoped that love would spring up within him for Luna or Ginny, or even Hermione, although that would have caused all sorts of problems with her and Ron.

But it hadn't. And Harry had eventually resigned himself to dying a virgin. If that was what it took to stop Voldemort, well, he didn't mind so much. Sex was only one on a list of many, many things he hadn't had the chance to do.

And Harry simply refused to have sex just because he was tired or bored or someone offered, even though there had been plenty of times like those during the past few years. At least now it _would_ mean something.

 _Not what I originally hoped it would. But the war taints everything it touches._

Harry turned to Snape. "I'd like a promise that you won't abuse me," he said. "That's really all I require."

For some reason, Snape had decided the best way to look at him was with eyes that never blinked. "And what about not killing you?"

"You want the satisfaction of being free of Voldemort more than you want the satisfaction of killing me. _That_ kind wouldn't last long."

"It would not be satisfying at all."

Harry blinked, then inclined his head. He had wondered if there was anything that would get Snape to admit that, but no matter how well they worked together, they were still uneasy allies at best. It seemed he had decided to admit, for once, that his animosity for Harry's dead father was less important than life.

"What concerns me more is the fact that you would willingly put your life in my hands."

Harry opened his mouth to ask what sort of thing _that_ was to say, and then realized how Snape was using the word "concerns." "It's what I have to do," he said simply. "And I want this war done more than anything."

"More than your freedom to love who you will?"

"Yes. Do you think I would still be a virgin if I had found someone I loved and trusted?"

Snape finally looked away, but his brow was still furrowed, as if something about Harry's answer didn't make sense to him.

Dumbledore clasped his hands and beamed at them, not looking uncomfortable at all with this talk of murder and virginity. But then, it took a lot to make Dumbledore even sad. "Very well! I suggest you go and begin the ritual preparations immediately. And talk with each other." He winked at Harry, which Harry pretended not to see. It was easier that way.

* * *

Albus's advice to talk to the brat notwithstanding, Severus still went back to his bedroom and slammed most of a bottle of Firewhisky down his throat in the first gulp. But of course he paid for it, panting and half-screaming a few seconds later, fighting to keep himself from retching.

Rather the way that he was going to pay for underestimating the brat.

 _Not so much of a brat now,_ Severus had to admit grudgingly, and allowed himself to think of Potter's high cheekbones, the flaring green eyes, the way that he spoke straightforward words and thrust his hand forwards as if he wanted to shake Severus's. He would have to think about Potter like that soon.

 _All of him._ And again Severus felt that strange stirring he'd felt once before, when Potter had declared that he was a virgin.

 _It's strange. I never thought it would have anything to do with me, and now that it does…I don't know what to feel._

Someone knocked on his office door. Severus picked up his wand, an old habit, although there were no ordinary students at Hogwarts now and no Death Eaters had managed to puncture Albus's spells yet.

"Do you have a minute to talk, sir? I think we should."

"Simply because your mentor said so?" Severus sneered. He kept the wand in his hand as he stalked over and flung open the door. "And you would never disagree with him or disappoint him, would you?"

"I think I've disappointed him a lot," Potter said, slipping in with a small shrug of his shoulders. "But what I really want to talk to you about is simpler." He turned and stared Severus in the eye. "Can you do this?"

"The matter is not my ability, Potter. It is my _will_."

"You can't do it if you won't. So that's what I'm asking. Are you up to this? Or should we try to find some other method?" Potter lifted his chin as if he really couldn't see what the problem was with what he was asking.

Severus shook his head and turned his back. "You have no idea what you're requiring of me," he whispered.

"No, and I won't, if you continue to not tell me."

"You're telling me that I have to essentially rape a child, and then be bound for the rest of my life to that child—"

"You don't," said Potter, so calmly that Severus wanted to strike him. "You can't rape the willing."

"You've never had sex before, you _stupid_ boy!" Severus turned sharply on one heel. "You can't know what it's like."

"Say that I can't know what the sensations are like. That doesn't mean I haven't read up on sex and even sex between two men." Potter flushed when he saw the way Severus stared at him, but kept his steady stare up. "I was curious. I thought at the time I probably _would_ die a virgin, so I wanted to see everything I could be missing."

Severus stared at his hands. "You don't even know if you're attracted to men."

"What does _that_ matter?"

The sheer surprise in Potter's voice brought Severus's head snapping up. "Because this is for the rest of your life! To be bound to someone you find ugly—"

"It's for the rest of both our lives," Potter countered him. That stubbornness that belonged to neither of his parents, because neither of them would have been willing to do this, shone steadily in his eyes. "And it hardly matters in the same way marriage does, right? I mean, we don't have to spend every moment together. We don't need to _love_ each other. What we need to do is work together. We can do that."

Severus sank slowly into the chair behind him, staring at Potter. "When did you become willing to do things like this? It can't all be the result of the war."

Potter gave him a flat, flinty smile. "I think you've never really understood me, sir. I was willing to die my first year. I was willing to go into the Chamber of Secrets alone my second year. I brought Cedric's body back in fourth year because I _wanted_ to. And I've fought in these battles perfectly willing to die if I had to." He met Severus's eyes and shook his head at whatever he saw in them. "I think you thought of that as recklessness, but it wasn't, not really. It was being willing to do whatever I had to do."

"You will be giving up your dreams of a family." Severus didn't know for certain, but he thought that would matter to Potter, who had grown up without parents.

Potter massaged the back of his neck and shrugged a little. "I would have been giving up my life, or my sanity. I've already given up my reputation." Severus gave a short nod; he knew what the _Daily Prophet_ , and consequently many other wizards, thought of Potter not having ended the war already. "I'm going to live, and hope that something comes along." He met Severus's eyes. "I think you would hardly care if I had sex with someone else, later."

"I would have to give you permission. That's what being in charge of the bond means."

"But you wouldn't mind, would you?"

Severus sat silent. He wasn't sure what infuriated him more: Potter's surety that he _would_ give permission, or his willingness to jump into this.

"Severus?"

Potter saying his first name struck him like he was a bell and the name was the clapper. Severus cleared his throat and looked away from Potter. "I would do it. And if you will do this, you deserve to know exactly how bloody and stern this ritual is."

"Then tell me. What I don't know."

Severus eyed Potter as he sat down on the chair in front of him, and finally nodded. Potter's eyes were earnest. They could _perhaps_ do this.

If things went wrong, then at least Potter would never be able to say that it was Severus's fault.

* * *

Harry swallowed as he watched the blood running from his left wrist onto the ritual site they had chosen, a small part of Hogwarts's grounds near the lake. It would be protected with spells so dense and strong that not even a werewolf could get past them. And its grass would be shaved and the stones would be removed.

Harry supposed that was the best he could hope for.

The ritual required not only that they bleed each day for a month onto the site they'd chosen, but that they bleed from a different part of the body. At least that could mean slightly different places on the arm and the like, instead of places that would cause damage.

Harry looked up and met Snape's eyes as he stood on the opposite side of the ritual circle—already laid out by a faint line of blue light, although not by any stronger magic as yet. Snape nodded to him and then glanced down at his own line of blood. In the end, they would cover the entire circle, half of the ring each. It was strange to Harry to think of their blood blending like that—stranger than to think of their bodies blending in sex.

He'd meant what he'd told Snape. He had always thought he would die a virgin, and sex was only one more thing to give up. If it meant he could stay alive, have his life, his friends, the possibility of love with someone else one day, that was hardly a big thing to surrender.

Snape still seemed to think it was, but Harry had become accustomed to ignoring Snape's opinion.

When they had finished the bleeding, Snape sealed his own cut with a wave of his wand. Harry did likewise and glanced up to the part of the sky where he knew the moon was hidden.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he felt a swell of power leap from him to the moon, talking in his blood with lapping waves for a moment.

 _I promise that we are going to defeat Voldemort._

* * *

"My intention is to bond with Harry Potter in order to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Severus spoke the intention clearly at midnight, and then took a sip of the glass of pure water the ritual recommended. Strangely, it was harder to force himself into saying the Dark Lord's name than it had been to force himself to state the first part of the intention.

There were two Harry Potters in his head now, Severus thought as he put the empty cup down and stared into his fire. There was the brat with James Potter's face who had defied him so often that Severus had expected pushback on the matter of the ritual, too. And there was the young man who had come to speak to him and call him by his first name and had already bled in the ritual circle across from him.

The young man who was used to being a sacrifice.

Severus flexed his fingers and made a promise to himself that he barely understood, only that it was inspired by Potter's uncompromising words and the look in his eyes. _He shall not find what I do to him such a sacrifice._

* * *

"What's this about you bonding with Professor Snape?"

Harry sighed and flopped down into the chair in front of the Gryffindor common room's fire. Ron and Hermione were leaning expectantly forwards from the chairs in front of him. They were almost the only ones there. Most of the other students had got withdrawn from the school when their families fled the country. But those who were Muggleborns or "blood traitors" were safer here than anywhere else. Dumbledore had even opened the school for some students of those families who had already left, and most of Ron's brothers were back.

There wasn't much pretense of a normal school year left, anyway. Snape still insisted on teaching his Potions classes, and Dumbledore did Defense and Transfiguration with a focus on practical spells, but that was about it. All the other professors were busy in the war effort or…gone.

(Harry still had to struggle not to vomit when he remembered his vision of Nagini devouring Professor Burbage).

"I was going to tell you as soon as Dumbledore said I could."

"Instead, we overheard you stating your intention." Hermione smoothed down her robes. "I know what kinds of rituals have those declarations, Harry. This is a Dark one, isn't it?"

Harry nodded.

"One that involves blood?"

Harry nodded.

"And one where the miserable git's going to be in charge, right?" Ron asked, with a horrible scowl.

"What? What do you mean _in charge_?" Hermione was sitting up, glancing back and forth between the two of them worriedly.

"It means he'll be on top, basically. And have to give me permission for things like whether I can take other lovers." Harry looked at Ron with a new level of respect. Rituals weren't something he read about for fun, unlike Hermione. "How did you know that?"

" _What_?" squeaked Hermione, who was blushing.

"Because that's what Dark rituals do," said Ron, broodingly. "My parents did tell me _some_ history, you know, about things like why we're feuding with the Malfoys in the first place. They wanted our ancestors to undergo some Dark rituals, and didn't tell them the truth about them. It was only luck that Edwin Weasley found out in time and refused to go through with it." He looked at Harry. "And you have to be on the bottom because you're a virgin."

Now it was Harry's turn to blush, and Ron rolled his eyes. "Sort of hard not to notice that you've never sneaked off with anyone, mate."

Harry nodded and sighed. "I wanted it to be love, and so I didn't find anyone." He shrugged. "But at least that means I can do this ritual. And Snape isn't going to be difficult about giving me permission to find someone else."

"Why not?" Hermione asked. She seemed to have recovered, although she still wasn't looking directly at Harry. "I mean, why would—he seems to be possessive of what he considers his."

"Oh, I know," Harry muttered, thinking of the way that Snape gave all three of them a certain look when he locked his storage cupboards now. "But he still dislikes me. He won't want to spend any more time around me than he absolutely has to. This is a sacrifice for him just like it is for me. We'll do the ritual and then we'll cooperate in what needs to happen after it. It won't be loving sex."

"That kind of ritual usually means, um, sex once a month," Ron said, and it was his turn to flush and glance away.

"Again, a sacrifice," Harry said. "And anyone I find to love me after this would have to know the whole truth anyway. So I'll either find someone who can accept that, or I'll wait until I do."

"I hope you're right, mate." Ron shook his head a second later. "And I can't believe I have to say that I hope you're right about the way you'll have sex with _Snape_."

Harry laughed with them, and the mood was broken. Later that night, he lay awake in bed and did try to imagine a different future for himself, one where he was free to love exactly the way he wanted to.

But there was always the Horcrux in him. In the way.

Harry closed his eyes. He was committed now. Not even in a way that he wanted to turn aside from.

* * *

"My intention is to bond with Harry Potter in order to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort."

"My intention is to bond with Severus Snape in order to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Their voices echoed side-by-side in the final statement of intentions, the one that had to be done together. Severus turned to study Potter, who quietly cupped a glass of pure water in his hands, listening to the echoes of their voices fade. They were once more outside at the ritual site, with the dark moon looming over them.

Severus hesitated once as he watched Potter raise the glass of water to his lips, but in the end, Potter had been accepting of so much else, Severus felt the compulsion to at least _ask_ about this. "Wait a moment."

Potter turned to study him, eyebrows up. Severus ignored the immediate flaring of self-doubt and hatred he felt at that expression—it was a trick James Potter had pulled on him more than once—and cut his wrist with the same spell that he had used every time they bled on the circle.

"It makes the water stronger if we drink it with our blood mingled in it for the last step," he explained quietly, holding his wrist out over Potter's glass.

Potter watched as the drops of blood fell into it, but said only, "It didn't say anything about that in the ritual description."

"It is a common marker of blood rituals like this, but not required. The author of the book would not have thought it necessary to mention."

Potter only nodded, and waited until Severus had moved his wrist away and sealed the wound before he flicked his own wand. But he cut the side of his throat, not his wrist. Severus started, and wasn't in time to keep Potter from taking his own glass of water and sliding it under the dripping slice.

"Why?" Severus whispered. They had bled from the throat twice each over the ritual circle, but he hadn't expected Potter to do something like this.

"Because I know it's stronger when it comes from the throat," Potter replied, and sealed his own wound with a careless movement of his wand. "That's why vampires always want to drink there."

Severus grimaced. No need to ask how Potter knew _that_. The Dark Lord had recruited vampires to his side of the war six months ago, and they had all done their fair share of study in the ways to defeat them since then. "Very well," he said, and lifted his glass.

Potter swallowed his water-blood mixture without a grimace. Severus waited until he was done before taking his own first sip, so Potter could watch him.

He had expected to find it disgusting, but instead, there was a sharp tingle moving through him as he swallowed the blood, which was no thicker than tomato soup. Severus gasped. The magic of the ritual must have already begun to affect him, he realized dimly as he opened his eyes and turned his head to find Potter.

Potter was staring at him with slightly parted lips, his fingertips resting on the place on his throat where he had cut it to drain the blood. He only shook his head when Severus gazed at him. "I could feel that," he whispered. "Part of me being _swallowed_."

Severus blinked hard, and glanced away at once. He could do nothing as long as he lost control, he reminded himself again. Everything if he kept it. He nodded and moved away, towards Hogwarts. Potter walked quietly beside him. Severus knew _he_ had not looked away, but Severus himself was content to keep staring at the castle.

Tomorrow, things would change.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the reviews!

"You understand what the ritual is going to do, Harry?"

Harry wasn't really surprised that Dumbledore had summoned him to his office one more time before the ritual. He would want to make sure that Harry understood all the implications and what he was giving up.

After last night and the way he had felt _pulled on_ when Snape swallowed his blood, Harry was less sure that he did. But he wasn't going to admit that. According to Dumbledore, the power of this ritual had the ability not only to destroy the Horcrux in Harry but to destroy Voldemort's bodily form, through the pull on the magic that was linked in Severus's Dark Mark and body. If he was reduced to a spirit again, then all they would have to do was destroy the cup and the snake, and then Voldemort would lose his hold on the world and be gone completely.

Of _course_ he was going to go through with it.

"I understand it, sir," he said calmly, and met Dumbledore's eyes.

"I wish you would call me Albus, Harry."

Harry couldn't even call Snape by his first name with any consistency, but he smiled and tried. One way or another, tomorrow everything would change. "Sure, Albus. As I said, Sn—Severus and I discussed this. We both know that we have to live together and sleep together once a month. We both know that we're not in love. We both know that it's going to be unequal in the bond, that he'll have to be the one in charge since I'm a virgin. We're agreed on the consequences of that."

The way the bond was going to work was one reason Harry had cut his throat last night. He reckoned it only made sense for Snape to drink from a more intimate place than he did, since they were unequal.

Dumbledore sighed in a way that seemed to take most of the air in the room. "Ah, my boy," he whispered. "If I could have spared you this…"

"You would." Harry didn't have any doubt of that. "But you can't, and I can." He grinned when Dumbledore went on looking at him mournfully. "Come on, Albus, can you tell me that you think this is the worst thing to ever happen to me?"

"I suppose the Horcrux was the worst," Dumbledore had to concede, his expression lightening.

Harry hesitated, then shook his head. "The Dursleys."

Dumbledore winced. "And that was my fault as well."

"It's over now," said Harry firmly. With all the attacks Voldemort had been launching in the past two years, Dumbledore had determined it wasn't safe for Harry to return to the Muggle world. The only times Harry had even been outside Hogwarts had been in battle. He hadn't seen the Dursleys since he was fifteen, which was perfectly all right with him. "And anyway, this doesn't even count on my personal top ten list of horrible things."

"What are those, then?"

Seeing the way Dumbledore's eyes had begun to twinkle, Harry obediently listed them off on his fingers. "The Dursleys, finding out I was a Horcrux, losing Sirius, the basilisk, having people think I was crazy, seeing Voldemort come back to life, seeing Professor Quirrell burn to death, the time I thought I'd lost Ron over the bloody Tournament, Dementors, almost getting killed by that vampire last month."

Dumbledore had allowed himself to be soothed and cheered. Harry knew that was part of his role in the war, and he didn't mind. He understood his role so well, and even though the adults around him tried to think of him as a child…well, he hadn't been a child in years. He _did_ know.

And he chose. He was nineteen years old now. More than enough of age to choose.

"I will be there, of course, at the ritual. To make sure nothing goes wrong."

Harry felt his face immediately burn like a forest fire. "You aren't going to _watch_ …"

"No, of course not. I am not such a voyeur." Dumbledore smiled at him. "But I will be guarding the spells from the outside, to make sure that the flow of magic is as it should be. And I'll stand vigil."

Harry nodded, letting his paranoia retreat to a normal level. "Ron and Hermione want to join you, si—Albus."

"They will be most welcome."

* * *

 _It is like a demented parody of a wedding._

That was the thought Severus couldn't prevent as he watched Potter walk towards him, clad in dark and formal robes appropriate for a good many occasions, but not usually worn to a wedding. There was only a small touch of color on the robes, a lining of gold and red on the cuffs and hem where dress robes would have lace. Severus snorted a little. He supposed the boy needed _some_ outlet.

Then Potter lifted his eyes, and Severus caught his breath at the force behind that gaze. Those were not the eyes of a _boy_.

No, they were the eyes of someone who had chosen his fate, and even if it wasn't the one he would have chosen with every option unconstrained and free, Severus still felt something relax in his chest. There was—merit to being chosen by someone like that.

There was no moon overhead, and it was only because of the small floating lights Albus had conjured along the path Potter was taking that Severus, waiting next to the ritual circle, could see at all. Behind Potter walked Weasley and Granger, hand in hand. They both wore student robes, with Gryffindor ties. Their faces were pale and solemn. They touched Potter's shoulders before he crossed into the ritual circle and whispered something, one into each ear.

Potter reached back and grasped their hands. He was smiling.

The smile made Severus's throat ache. He saw Albus lean in and say something to Potter, too, which Potter nodded to but didn't smile for. That made Severus feel obscurely better.

Potter faced him, nodded again, and stepped across the boundary of the ritual circle.

There was an immediate blaze of power, waking from the circle as if all the blood they had spilled there over the past month had suddenly returned and caught on fire. Severus blinked at the sullen red glow, shocked. It took the form of large, pointed flames, burning so slowly that he could see them as individual peaks, but also continually blinking in and out, taking different places around the circle.

"That—was not supposed to happen," Severus said, and knew his voice was hoarse.

Potter looked a little wide-eyed, but a second later, he shrugged and began to unbutton his robes. "I think it's probably because of the power," he said. "The fact that we both have bits of someone else's soul in us, and the willingness, and the magic we have."

Severus could only make sense of part of that ramble, given that the ritual had been _designed_ to destroy unwanted connections to someone else and that of course they were both powerful wizards. "Will can affect things like this."

Potter turned unblinking green eyes to him as he shed the robes and dropped them to the ground. Underneath, he wore a white shirt and his pants, and nothing else. "Of course it can. You know it can."

"I—did not realize there would be so much."

Potter studied him for a second, and then his face softened. Stepping forwards, he rested his hand on Severus's chest. It was unfair that he was so steady when Severus could feel his own breath wheezing. "You really didn't believe I was willing."

"No."

"And you were."

"Yes."

Potter nodded and then pulled off the shirt. Thin, shiny battle-scars caught the light of the flames and the blurred reflections of the conjured ones Albus had burning outside the circle—thank Merlin the flames shielded them from any possibility that Albus or Potter's friends could see inside—and traced his chest down to his waist. Severus caught himself looking for where they vanished into the band of Potter's pants.

"Let me show you how willing I am," Potter said, and tossed his glasses aside.

When he leaned up to kiss Severus, something broke free in Severus at last, and he knew, from the sudden bright gold of the flames around him, that the ritual had truly begun. But by then, he was too caught up in the taste of the man beneath him to care overmuch.

* * *

Strangely, at least for the first few moments, Harry thought he was actually more powerful than Snape.

He was the one who'd had friends escort him to this. Even Dumbledore had followed _him_. Snape had been waiting all alone, as he had been most of his life, and he hadn't had the words Ron and Hermione had whispered to Harry.

 _We are always with you._

Nor had Dumbledore told _Severus_ that everything would be all right. Harry hadn't actually needed that reassurance, but he thought Severus would have appreciated it if Dumbledore had told him.

And then it occurred to Harry, as Severus dropped them both to the grass and kissed him so thoroughly that it was like being swallowed again, that he had the chance to correct that oversight.

"It will be all right," he whispered, when Severus had lifted his head and started to strip off his own ritual robes with frantic hands.

Severus paused and stared at him with narrowed eyes, his hands freezing. Harry smiled, and tried to show compassion instead of pity in it. He wasn't really experienced at showing Sn—Severus either one, but he must have succeeded, because finally his bondmate-to-be nodded and started pulling at his robes again.

Then they were off, and Harry blinked a little. He'd always thought of Severus as someone who was practically gaunt, because that was the way black made him look, and it wasn't like he wore any other color, especially tonight. But he was actually as slender and tough as a Quidditch player, and he has fascinating scars.

There was a _golden_ one on his belly, right above his navel. Harry reached out to touch it.

Severus caught his wrist in one hand, and shook his head. Harry grinned and lay back, stretching, letting Severus see all the scars he wanted. Harry wasn't exactly proud of them, but on the other hand, they said he had survived. He was prouder showing them off than he would have been telling the stories.

Severus leaned forwards and traced one of Harry's scars. Harry looked at him lazily. It was the scar that he'd got when he and Dumbledore had destroyed the diadem. Riddle's soul had conjured something like a snake that had latched onto Harry's chest and tried to drag his heart out of it.

Harry had stopped the thing.

"You have been eaten," Severus said slowly. "Gnawed on by the world."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I don't recall promising you anything but my arse that was untarnished."

Severus's expression darkened so fast that Harry thought he would pull his hand away, and he regretted saying it. But instead, he leaned forwards, bracing himself with his hands on Harry's chest, and stared into Harry's eyes. Harry stared back, getting more and more breathless, and not because of the weight.

"I know we spoke about you asking my permission for certain things," Severus said dangerously.

"Yes?" Harry's voice was so quiet it was hard to hear himself in the rustle of the grass and the soft crackling sound from the flames that danced around the edges of the circle.

"I may not give it for all of them."

Before Harry could ask what he meant, Severus bent down and kissed him, and _this_ time was savage enough and hopeful enough that Harry allowed himself to be swept away by it, and to stop worrying about the future.

* * *

It was easy to move forwards now, swept and tossed by the magic. It was so easy that Severus was easing slick fingers into Harry's arse before he thought about it.

Harry was so hoarse beneath him by then that it made Severus's hands tingle. _And I've barely touched him. What will it be like when I get deeper?_

The scars that twined around Harry's shoulders and arms and chest and legs were so unexpected that Severus kept having to lower his mouth to lick and suck on them. And Harry responded to that, too, arching his back—Severus had had him turn on his knees—and making soft noises that sometimes wandered into the realm of words.

"Yes…you can touch…want…yes…"

But still he never begged.

 _He will, by the time I'm done,_ Severus thought, and pulled his hand out fast enough that Harry didn't have time to make a noise mourning its loss. But by then, Severus was rubbing the potion, an oil that should prevent any pain for Harry, into his cock, and his eyes were fastened on the profile of Harry's turned face, the fluttering lashes and the way he breathed into one of his own hands.

"Put your hands on the ground," Severus said, working his voice through a web of thickness in his throat. "You will need them to support you when I thrust."

Harry nodded, dazedly, and slid his hands into place, gripping dirt as if it were bonds. The image of him _actually_ tied up dizzied Severus for a moment, and he had to steady himself before he settled his own hands on Harry's hips and slid forwards.

There was such a flare of magic when they joined that Severus felt the all-consuming heat strike up his body and dance around his head. He opened his eyes and found it was true, small, crackling flickers of red that struck and whipped at the air around his ears.

He shook his head in wonder and slid further in, whispering, "We will be doing this again."

Harry, being Harry, found some will that wasn't consumed by the ritual and his first time feeling such pleasure, and said, "Once a month…I know…"

 _That is not what I_ meant _,_ Severus thought, but between his body's demands and the trouble he had shaping his voice into words, he could either speak or show Harry what he meant with his cock, not both.

He chose his cock.

* * *

Harry had never expected the music he heard through their coupling to be his own heartbeat.

Oh, he heard the grunts and the slaps of skin, and his own gasps, and the way that Severus was groaning above him, although sometimes the sounds he made were muffled against Harry's shoulder. But it was Harry's heartbeat that was loudest and closest of all.

He felt it when Severus grabbed his hip and turned him a little to face one point of the circle, by the leap in his throat that the flames might fade and expose them to Dumbledore and Ron and Hermione.

But nothing happened, and his heart calmed down a little—until Severus slipped and did something, or twisted, or another motion that had him touching his cock exactly where Harry needed it most, and then Harry cried out while his heartbeat soared and rang in his ears. Yes, this, _this_ was what he wanted most of all right now, what he needed.

It was so warm. It was so close. It was so thick. Harry sank back on his heels and interrupted Severus's neat rhythm, because he wanted more of that feeling of something stabbing him to pleasure.

"The ritual—"

"There's no requirement we—do this a certain way."

Harry was very impressed with himself for getting all those words out, and then he lost himself again in the rush as he fucked himself on Severus, over his lap. Every motion they made had an echo in his heartbeat. There were sudden surges where Severus repositioned himself on Harry's back, and there were sudden moments of pain as Severus dug his nails or his teeth in, and there was such an unexpected pleasure that it was hard to _breathe_.

And all those things were true all through his body. All the way through.

Harry knew at last that he wouldn't come back from this, he wouldn't calm down, and he clenched his arse because he wanted to share the sensation. Severus went so still above him that Harry's next thrust backwards knocked him over and off his back. But Harry followed him down, spreading his legs and widening his hole and doing everything he could to keep him inside, to keep him doing _that_.

And the moment hit when he came, and he could hear nothing but the frenzy of his heart's drum, and the pleasure crashed over him and hit him, and he was feeling so _good_.

* * *

Severus had never imagined he could feel the way he did now.

It wasn't something he had wanted to feel. It wasn't something he had wanted to _do,_ this frantic grasping at Harry's back and sides and the mutter in his lips that was too much of the brat's name and not enough of his own pleasure, and the twisting of his hips that had started because he couldn't imagine not sharing some of what he felt with the boy.

 _The brat. Harry. Potter._

All the different names poured through his head, all the different words, and Severus gasped and felt himself stir in blatant interest. A thrust, and another thrust, and Harry was giving out beneath him, giving up, giving in and leaning on Severus in a way that made him lurch forwards before he knew what he'd done and sink his nails into Harry's shoulders like talons.

There were concerns, worries, that they weren't performing the ritual correctly. Severus could feel them pressing on the edges of his mind, worrying and tearing, because they always did. He was never alone, but walked in the company of his worries.

They vanished in the rhythm that overcame them.

Severus thrust up, once, again, and then slower, a tease, even though Harry had already finished and there was really nothing to tease him with now. Harry moaned obligingly anyway, and Severus felt as though someone was scooping his heart out and offering it on a platter.

But he got the pleasure, and Harry's complete, soaked vulnerability, in turn.

Harry tilted his head back, flopped it onto Severus's shoulder, and made a kissing motion with his lips.

That was the end for Severus, that and the impertinent squeeze the brat gave at the same time. Severus tumbled, his face pressed against sweat-slick skin but his hips moving through the last of it, anyway, giving what he had to give, his heart spinning through space.

The landing was a jolt, brought back to him as Harry stretched and rippled in front of him. Then he moved forwards, and Severus was out for the first time in what felt like hours. The guardian walls of flame curved inwards around them now and pulsed like a drumbeat.

"Did—did we complete the ritual?"

Severus kissed the back of Harry's neck and spent a moment stroking his muscles, not able to answer that question right away. He was—overwhelmed. He just wanted to touch skin and stare at the wrinkles that formed as Harry tried to sit back on his heels. He murmured, "Be still, Harry."

To his astonishment, Harry did that, leaning backwards on him and closing his eyes. Severus glanced at the flames and wondered if Albus and Harry's friends were anxious on the other side.

It didn't matter if they were. They could bloody well wait.

Severus cradled Harry back against him and moved the back of his hand across Harry's cheeks and nose and eyebrows. Harry stirred, but only to turn his head a little more into the stroke. Severus swallowed. Although it might have been wiser to wait, he couldn't stop the words from sliding out. "I do not want to give you permission to have another lover."

Harry said nothing, and Severus thought perhaps he hadn't heard and the dangerous moment had slipped past in a way he hadn't anticipated. But then Harry whispered, "You feel like that right now because the bond is new and not settled. Let's not say anything hasty yet. You might feel different later."

Severus snarled a little, because those were the wise, mature words _he_ should have spoken, and he did not like Harry saying them. Nor did he like the way Harry inevitably began to separate from him as he regathered his senses, or the way that they seemed to flow back into their own bodies and away from one joined being as the moments went on.

"I know what I am saying."

"You want to be saddled with someone who has James Potter's face?" Harry asked, without looking back at him, and stroked Severus's arms. "You have to give yourself time to think about it—"

Severus seized Harry's throat and pulled his head back, ignoring his thick gasp of surprise. "Does that mean you _wish_ to part?"

* * *

Harry knew what he should say. He should say that he didn't expect Severus to be capable of loving him. And he wanted someone to love him. If he ended up being the one in love with Severus and it couldn't be returned, that would be agony. So he had to hold back and speak wise words for his _own_ sake, as much as Severus's.

But the blaze in Severus's eyes would have hardened him again if he hadn't been so exhausted. So he swallowed, and met his fate head-on the way he had when he heard about the bonding, and said, "No."

"Good. _Good_."

 _I won't ever tell him he sounds like a werewolf with a bone just now,_ Harry thought, and knew that thought was at least as wise as any words he could speak. He settled back against Severus and then thought of something. He arched his head to the side to look at Severus's Dark Mark. It had to be to the side, because Severus wasn't about to let him actually move out of his lap or turn around.

The Mark was gone. By squinting, Harry thought he could make out a faint outline where it would have been, but he could have been fooling himself. He traced one finger over the bare skin and sighed a little, then raised his hand to his forehead.

Severus's hand was there before his, rising so swiftly that Harry almost flinched before it landed and he felt how soft it was. Severus traced his fingers in random patterns, and then said, in a voice as soft as the touch, "Your scar is gone."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. That _had_ to mean the ritual had worked. Dumbledore had explained how the scar was the visible sign of the Horcrux inside him, and except with something like the ritual, there was no way to get rid of it.

 _Or a basilisk fang or Fiendfyre._ There had been a time in the war when Harry had been desperate enough to consider those options, but Dumbledore had made him calm down and promise that he would never use either one of them to try and get rid of the Horcrux.

Now, sitting in Severus's lap with the gentle flicker of flames around him, those moments seemed a thousand miles away.

"He is not entirely dead," Severus murmured.

"No. He's a spirit, and that gives us more time to find a way to get the cup and snake." Harry thought of something, and chuckled a little. He ignored the way Severus stiffened behind him, since he was going to explain. "Dumbledore thought he might take shelter in Nagini's body, the way he apparently did when he was a spirit before. That will just make it easier for us to kill him if he does, when we kill her."

"That is true." Severus traced a hand over his hip. Then he said, "Did you realize, in the book, that there was no strict procedure for after the ritual?"

Harry blinked. "No. I mean—I thought we needed to put on our robes and dismiss the flames and go back out there to show them that it worked?"

"The flames themselves do not dissipate until sunrise," said Severus, and leaned Harry gently forwards until his knees touched the ground. Then he ran his hands over Harry's hips and up onto his back, in firm circles that Harry thought was some kind of massage.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed as he felt a stirring beneath his waist. "I think we should—"

"Stay here and get ready for another round?" Severus nipped the back of his neck. "That is the only suggestion I intend to lend a sympathetic ear to at this point."

Harry laughed and reached back with one arm to loop it around Severus's neck. "That's what I was going to suggest. You need to learn how to _listen_." And he gave Severus a kiss over his shoulder to show he meant it and didn't mean it at the same time.

Some private time with his new bonded sounded surprisingly good.

* * *

 _I need not fear anything from him again._

As Severus stroked and coaxed Harry back to life, and listened to his soft moans, he wanted to snort at himself. That sounded as if he expected some kind of miracle from their relationship. He did not. He only thought that there would be nothing unforgivable between them, which was not something he had ever thought before.

They had been allies, but not friends. Severus had always hesitated around Harry. What if one of them said something that damaged their ability to work together?

But now…

Now he knew they would hurt each other, but they could forgive. They could come back together. They had seen each other as human, and it was impossible to go back to seeing each other in the distorted fashion they _had_ been using again.

That was…

That was special.

And for now, in the wake of future visions of coming back together, Severus thought he would see if he could make Harry simply _come_ again.

Harry gasped as Severus touched him, and he was already almost hard again. With a smile that was less like a smirk than he had expected, Severus kissed his shoulder.

Let the world wait. They had saved it tonight. That was enough for right now, more than most people could have managed.

 _Let us have this._

And it was not a plea, but a desire, one they could both answer.

 **The End.**


End file.
